


Opportunity Knocks... You Over

by BootsnBlossoms, rayvanfox



Series: The Mundanes [2]
Category: The Mundanes, The Mundanes (Queer Urban Magic Universe)
Genre: Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Found Family, Gen, Original Fandom, Original Fiction, Original Universe, Queer Families, Queer Urban Magic, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:11:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BootsnBlossoms/pseuds/BootsnBlossoms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tia was not pleased. Not even a little. She and Ambrose hadn’t been in a sticky situation in a record two weeks, and here they were hoofing it like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. And it wasn’t like she’d done anything terrible… not exactly. Depending on your definition of the word ‘terrible’.</p><p>The dumbass had tried to bogart a cab from an old lady with wispy white hair and cane. His sudden loss of wallet was a justified asshole tax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wanderers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tia and Ambrose stumble upon Quinn and Cafe Rosetta, literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is The Mundanes Queer Urban Magic Universe, that [Boots](http://bootsnblossoms.tumblr.com) and [Jade (the-oxford-english-fangeek)](http://the-oxford-english-fangeek.tumblr.com) and [I](http://zooeyscigar.tublr.com) \- along with lots of other folks - have accidentally created. It started out as some random text post, then it became an exercise, and then it snowballed into something else entirely.
> 
> [The origin story is here.](http://themundanes.tumblr.com/post/135794511674/ok-but-what-is-this-the-mundanes-thing-im) Make sure to check out the blog to read shorter stories, see faceclaims, and find inspiration: [The Mundanes](http://themundanes.tumblr.com).

Tia was not pleased. Not even a little. She and Ambrose hadn’t been in a sticky situation in a record two weeks, and here they were hoofing it like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. And it wasn’t like she’d done anything terrible… not exactly. Depending on your definition of the word ‘terrible’.

The dumbass had tried to bogart a cab from an old lady with wispy white hair and cane. His sudden loss of wallet was a justified asshole tax. 

Ambrose’s strategic intervention was heavy handed and perfect.  He sports-style body blocked the pinch-faced loser to allow Grandma to snag the cab. Grandma had patted Ambrose's hand with a happy smile as he shut the door for her. Pinch-faced loser screamed at him about board meetings, urgency, and Important Things, and, well. The wallet was... right. There.

Who knew pinch-face granny-pusher was so perceptive? 

“Right, turn right!” Ambrose yelled, his face lined with exertion and annoyance. 

Tia couldn't see far enough past Ambrose's big frame to find the turn, and Ambrose decided a little help was necessary. He grabbed her elbow and tugged as gently as possible when running full-boar through urban streets, and Tia found herself in a narrow alley.

“Sorry,” she gasped as she stumbled to keep up. “But in my defense, you’ve got a little more range of vision way up there.”

Ambrose didn’t bother to grace that with a response. 

Too focused on making sure pinch-faced granny pusher’s voice faded further and further away, Tia didn’t pay attention to where she was going. She ducked through alleys, down side streets, across driveways, and around buildings as fast as she found openings. Ambrose only protested once, when his wide shoulders almost didn’t fit between a trash bin and a sticky back alley wall, but hell. Tia no longer had  _ any  _ idea where they were, but it didn’t matter. They were almost clear. Tia could feel it.

“Wait,” Ambrose huffed, tugging on Tia’s tiny hand. “Where the hell —” 

“Oh shit!” They’d turned a corner from a narrow alley onto the sidewalk of a side street and nearly trampled a little skinny red-headed kid practically swimming inside a big green hoodie. He bounced off of Ambrose and twirled on his heel, then hopped a few feet away before yelling at them. “What the hell? Where did you even...?” He cocked his head at them, and Tia could hear pinch-face getting louder again. The kid tugged up his hood as if to hide. “Trouble?”

Tia ignored him for a minute and pressed against Ambrose to ground herself while she concentrated. She let her vision unfocus and reach across the buildings and through the streets to  _ see _ . Beneath the chatter of everyday friendliness that bounced around the buildings like bubbles, she could see pinch-face’s jagged red anger. Shaped like daggers, it looked like a vocal shank ready to carve their insides out. 

What the hell was in that wallet? 

“Few more degrees of separation still needed here,” she mumbled with a tug at Ambrose’s shirt hem.

“Great. Only I have  _ no idea _ where we are now, Mouse,” Ambrose grumbled. He squinted his eyes and looked around for a minute before settling on the newcomer. “Any ideas, friend?”

“Yep. This way.” 

The not-so-merry chase continued through alleys and down side yards, across parking lots and over at least one fence, until a claustrophobic driveway spat them out onto another main street with businesses lit up brightly against the gray day. 

“Here. Get in, quick.” The kid was pointing to the door of a coffee shop, trying to usher them in speedily without looking like he was being pushy. He was kinda failing.

What was weird, though, was that Ambrose was  _ letting _ him. Six and a half feet tall and twice the weight of their rescuer, Ambrose was as easy to push around as a Corinthian pillar. Why was he letting the newbie manhandle him without protest?

Manhandle. Eew. Bad comparison. That was Ambrose’s business, and Tia had other things to think about. 

A big wall of colorful decorated glass stood between her and the soundwaves of the street, but she pressed her fingers to the windowpane to focus. Pinch-face granny pusher was nowhere to be heard, and Tia turned to nod her head in satisfaction. 

At least, that was what she was  _ going _ to do. It didn’t quite work out, though, because the moment she laid, uh, eyes and ears on the newbie, her vision swam with a riot of colorful tangles. It was more connection than she’d ever seen emanating from a single person. 

“Whoah,” she mumbled, ducking a little behind Ambrose to give her senses a break. 

Ambrose shifted in front of her, blocking her from sight as she clutched at the back of his jeans. 

“Thanks.” Ambrose’s big voice was pitched low and quiet, a pleasant rumble against the tinny, shattery sounds of the cafe that echoed in Tia’s brain. “That guy was an asshole. We appreciate it, uh…”

“Quinn,” the kid said, laying a hand high on his own chest. “Happy to help. Want some, uh, coffee or something?” He waved awkwardly towards the counter, looking around the empty cafe with a curious expression.

Ambrose, awesome pillar of brilliance that he was, didn’t move for a moment while Tia made up her mind. He waited until she gave the tiny nod against his back that meant that she was up for spending some time in the cafe. Neither of them liked being stuck in small spaces with only one or two exits. The echoing tended to give Tia massive headaches. Ambrose, a giant of an African American man with an explosion of colorful hair and clothes, tended to get stared at. Tight corners made it hard for them to breath.

Quinn, though. Quinn was fascinating, and as he led them towards an empty table and dragged over a third chair to perch on, Tia took a moment to take him in. He wasn’t as small or as young as Tia had first thought, but there was something fragile about him — his wrists seemed unreasonably thin, and he didn’t need to shave so much as use a tweezers on his chin. The longer Tia stared at him, the more his colorful supernova of an aura settled, dimming like a star in your periphery that you tried to look at straight on. The lines were sharp and long — a complete contrast to the alive way most sounds looked to Tia. But they weren’t sounds, exactly, she realized as she squinted at him. They were something else.

“Um, I’m just gonna...” Quinn didn’t look at Tia as he gestured to the counter where a young barista of indeterminate gender was flaring nostrils and sending eyebrow semaphore at Quinn. “Want anything? Either of you?” 

Tia glanced up at Ambrose’s blank face — how in the hell did he learn to do that?! — and then back at Quinn. She leaned across the table to look at him closer, absorbed in the spiky art that surround him. “You’re amazing,” she blurted, meeting his green eyes. Ambrose shifted beside her but didn’t say anything. Tia was glad because she’d never seen anyone like this and, for once, wasn’t quite ready to run. “Wait, who are you?”

“ _ Quinn, _ ” He replied with a little huff of breath and an amused smirk. “I told you already. Are you all right? Can I get you something?”  He stood, not quite about to bolt, but looking once more over his shoulder at the barista as if for help.

“How about…” Ambrose started, then reached over to pluck the wallet from Tia’s jacket pocket. He did a remarkable job of not showing his surprise at the hundreds that lined the billfold, though Tia almost choked. He dug for a moment to pull out a respectable (and not suspicious) twenty and passed it over. “Two lattes and a couple cookies? And something for you. Don’t protest — we really appreciate your help.”

Quinn’s bright smile held a hint of relief, but he shook his head. “That’s my friend over there, and I was promised a free drink if I came by to keep them company, so don’t worry about me.” He took the money and headed over to the counter, leaning over it to kiss the barista on the cheek before engaging in a whispered conversation. Their two heads, red and black, were intimately close together as they spoke, and looked to stay that way for a few more minutes. 

“What the actual hell, Mouse?” Ambrose hissed. Tia dragged her eyes away from Quinn’s shock of color and light to see him staring down at her with frustration and exasperation. “The kid is cute but not  _ that _ cute.”

“Oh please,” Tia shrugged, giving him a quirked grin. “I can tell exactly what you think of his cuteness, Ambrose. And dude, I think he’s actually about the same age as us.”

Tia could see the way blood rushed to to the tips of his ears, if in the sound of blushing rather than the sight of it, and it made her smirk. 

“What makes you think that?” Ambrose asked, narrowing his eyes at Quinn. “Can you see his…”

“Aura?” Tia filled in, catching herself from rolling her eyes. “Ambience, flavor, second self?”

“You’re so obnoxious when you’re smug,” Ambrose huffed.

“Yeah, Ambrose, I can see his aura. It’s radiant. And completely amazing. But that’s not why I think he’s our age. I’m just a better judge than you are, because you think anyone under six feet and without gray hair is twelve.”

“I do not!” Ambrose protested. 

“Whatever.”

“What does it look like?” 

Tia looked over at Ambrose, his purple hair and neon orange nails, his ratty red sweater and deep brown skin, and grinned. “Colorful.”

Ambrose punched her in the arm, but smiled back too. Then he frowned at the wallet in his hand. “What do we do with the Asshole Tax.”

“I saw a women’s health clinic somewhere on our way here,” Tia started to suggest, but Ambrose rumbled a laugh and shook his head. 

“I don’t think I could find our way back if I tried,” he admitted.

Tia looked around the cafe, thinking. The rule was to never keep more than fifty percent of what they pulled. It seemed a safe bet to balance out the fact that they used their magic for unsavory purposes (even if they only stole from truly foul people) to give the ill-gotten gains for something more than personal need. Fifty percent of this wallet was still an amazing catch, and Tia was feeling a little giddy with it when she spotted the cause jar up by the till. It featured somber-faced women of a variety of shapes and sizes, and “Domestic Violence Shelter” in big, bold Times New Roman. 

“Perfect,” she said, nodding towards the jar.

Next to her, Ambrose’s face split in a delighted grin aimed at the counter, and Tia could see emerald waves of satisfaction rolling off him.

“Tone it down, dude, he’s gonna think you’re flirting with him in a weird, maniacal sort of way,” Tia hissed, elbowing him hard.

Yeah, backfire. Ambrose’s grin didn’t dim, even if Ambrose did direct it at the table now instead of in Quinn’s general direction.

“Quinn! What kind of host are you?” A raised voice carried over to their table, and the dark-haired barista leaned over the counter to look at Tia and Ambrose. “I apologize for my friend. I’m Fox. What should we call you two lovely people?”

Once again, Ambrose seemed awestruck, and Tia sighed even as she directed her gaze a little to the left of the newcomer. What the hell kind of people were these guys, so shiny and bright and vibrant that she had to adjust her Sight to look at them straight on? Fox had an aura that wasn’t quite as chaotic as Quinn’s, but wispy and wild in a tangle of formless somethings that didn’t so much pulse as… waft. The colors were muted shades of earthy tones, and they seemed to drift towards his face. 

“Dude,” Tia whispered out the side of her mouth, quiet enough for only Ambrose to hear her.

Ambrose elbowed her again, this time hard enough to actually hurt a little.

“Tia,” she said, giving the barista her best flirty smile. Having someone shout at her across a cafe made her a little twitchy, but it was amazing how a little flirtation could go a long way. Ambrose was all sorts of fluttery next to her and it made her want to play nicer than she normally did with strangers. “And this is my, uh, Ambrose.”

Fox saluted them with a charming smile. “Marvelous. Nice to meet you both. Those lattes will be right up.” Then Fox pushed two plates with a large cookie on each towards Quinn and nodded at their table. “Go on.”

“I’m  _ going, _ ” said Quinn as he shuffled toward where Tia and Ambrose sat. He set the cookies down in front of them, then perched on his chair again, hands between his knees. 

Tia couldn’t help it. The moment Quinn was in front of her again, she lost herself to the bright colors and lights around him. Ambrose stomped on her toes in protest and Tia refocused back on Quinn’s face. She knew how weird it looked when she stared not  _ at _ people, but around them.

“Thanks, Quinn,” she said with a genuine smile. She pulled the cookie towards her, aware of Ambrose doing the same next to her. But this was so… weird. She’d never seen anything like his aura before. Did he know? Did he have a special skill, like her and Ambrose? 

“Good choice,” Ambrose said next to her. “Macadamia nuts are the best.”

Tia choked back a laugh at his awkward flirting, distraction making it difficult. She traced one of the spikes of color from Quinn’s shoulder, which led out of the shop and through the driveway they’d come through. Huh.

“Oh shit, I didn’t ask if you’re allergic to anything. Ugh, I’m sorry. I really am a terrible host.” Quinn rubbed his palms on the tops of his thighs, once again avoiding eye contact. “Oh, and I was supposed to ask if you wanted any flavoring in your lattes.”

The spike of color came from his shoulder went past Tia and Ambrose too close to be a coincidence. It traced their steps from the cafe to the driveway and further beyond. Tia would have bet anything that it followed their footsteps exactly. 

“You…” Tia started. She stopped, glanced at Ambrose’s placid face, then back to Quinn, who had started to frown. “You never get lost, do you?”

Quinn’s eyebrows shot to his hairline and he fidgeted in his seat, looking back and forth between Tia and Ambrose warily. “Um... no. Well, sometimes in cars...” He winced and looked down at his toes. “How did you know?”

Tia laughed, stood up, and shoved her plate towards Ambrose. She reached out for a moment before thinking better of it, then pulled her hand back. “I’m so sorry. I just… Can I… I mean…” She huffed and glared at her hands before meeting Quinn’s eyes with determination. “Dude, you’re like  _ sunshine _ . It’s amazing. Color and light all around you. Can I, like, wave my hands in the air around you? Not to be cheeky or anything, ‘cause guys are not my thing, I swear, I just wanna…” The aura around Quinn seemed to shimmer for a moment, flickering brighter, then dimmer, before settling back in its usual thrumming brightness. “Wow.”

There was a moment when Quinn shot Ambrose an ‘is she for real’ look, and Ambrose sighed and shrugged before Quinn gave a quick nod and gave a nervous laugh. “I guess? Sure.”

‘Sure’ wasn’t exactly enthusiastic consent, but Tia took a step closer without being invasive. She hoped. She stared at the light around Quinn for a long moment, ignoring the sting in her eyes to try and separate some of the thin strands from each other. She passed a hand through the slightly thicker strand that represented their journey to the cafe. She didn’t feel anything, no surprise there, but she also didn’t manage to block the light’s path. He said cars messed with his connection? Was it the rubber tires? Would a rubber glove on her hand block the light? Or was it just that the motion of a car that confused his sense of direction?

Ambrose cleared his throat, and Tia stepped back with a rueful look in his direction. She plopped in her seat and pulled the cookie back.

“Sorry,” she said with a sudden flush of embarrassment.  _ I must look insane _ , she thought. But did Quinn have any idea how unique he was?

Ambrose, sensing her distress, reached over to grab her hand.

“It’s... fine. I’ve never had anyone  _ see _ it before. I didn’t know people  _ could  _ see someone’s gift.” Quinn slouched a bit in his chair after having sat up straight for her. He lowered his voice to add, “Is that  _ your _ gift?”

“Kind of?” Tia shrugged. She glanced at Ambrose, and he shook his head. For some reason that he wouldn’t talk about, Ambrose hated talking about their abilities. Tia didn’t know anyone other than Ambrose who had gifts, though. Quinn was here in front of her, willing to talk, and it superseded Ambrose’s paranoia. She kept her hand clasped in his, but leaned forward to meet Quinn’s eyes. 

“I see sound. And energy. Like light and color. How people are feeling shows in colors and shapes around them, and when they say things, it gets brighter.” She could also manipulate that energy, just a little bit. Enough to send drunkards tripping over their own words or old ladies feeling safe in their songs, even. But Ambrose might kill her if she offered up that little tidbit.  

“But you can see my gift? How, exactly?” Quinn finally seemed a little less wary and more intrigued, though his eyes kept straying to where Tia’s and Ambrose’s hands were entwined on the table. A note of worry crept into his voice as he added, “I mean, does it look weird?”

“Oh god, Quinn, it’s amazing,” Tia couldn’t help but gush. She waved a hand to the light that traced their path here. “This is where we came from, leading back to pinch-face granny pusher, which is how I figured out your thing is tied to direction. But you… you look like an epicenter. A starburst. An explosion of light and color pointing… all the ways, I guess.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s beautiful.”

Quinn’s gaze dropped back down to his feet, his light eyelashes almost translucent against his freckled cheeks. “Nobody’s used that word for me in a long time. But it feels good, actually.” Then he looked up with a slight grin and asked, “Can you tell which trail will lead me home?”

“Ummm…” Tia hesitated, narrowing her eyes at all the lines. Some were thicker, some were thinner. Some were yellow and bright and sparkling, some were blue and wispy, and others were sticky black and tenuous. “I don’t think so? I guess it depends on how you define ‘home’. I mean, I could follow the one that leads you to the place that makes you happiest, or the place that makes you feel safest, or the place you hate. But I don’t… I can’t assume that any of those things actually equals home.”

“Oh, wow.” Quinn stared at Tia for a moment as if she’d hung the moon, all hesitancy lost in admiration. “That’s so cool! Hey, Fox!” Quinn turned toward the counter just as Fox stepped up to the table with their drinks.

“What? I’m right here, babe.” Fox set down the drinks in front of each of them, looked hard at the mugs and inhaled deeply, then nodded, satisfied. “What d’you need?”

“Tia here can see my directional ability. How cool is that?” Quinn was beaming at them both, and he reached for Fox in what seemed to be an unconscious desire to connect. Tia watched in fascination as one of the lines radiating from Quinn seemed to move when Fox moved. The pastel yellow turned sunshine bright and thickened the closer Fox got. Huh, Tia thought, as she watched the connection between them. They were close. Very close.

Fox smiled warmly at Quinn, then gave a curious look Tia. “Sounds cool. Can you do it with all gifted folks?”

“I’ve never met any others before, other than Ambrose,” Tia said — okay, squeaked — the moment Fox stopped speaking. “And he hides it so well I almost can’t see it, so I had no idea for months!’ She turned and grinned at Ambrose. “More of us! Isn’t this incredible?”

For the first time since getting into the cafe, Ambrose’s grin faltered. His grip on Tia’s hand tightened painfully and he kept his gaze on the table. He nodded and gave Fox a slight smile.

Fox did that thing that young waitstaff thought was cool, where they crouched down to be on the same level as everyone seated at the table. “Yeah, me too, Ambrose. So what’s your gift, then?” They held up a hand as if in apology and added with a smile, “Oh, mine’s that I’ve got an insanely good sense of smell.”

So  _ that’s _ why the wafty colors seemed to sharpen the closer someone got to Fox. Tia frowned and ducked her head, sniffing at her underarms. She and Ambrose hadn’t had a thorough washing in a while, though the showers at the Y a few days ago were pretty forceful. 

“Sorry,” she apologized with a sheepish smile..

“For what? You guys smell great. Like good, clean sweat. Though seems like you were both anxious to get away from somewhere. I’m happy that Quinn brought you here.” Fox turned to Quinn, rested a hand on his, and said with a teasing lilt to their voice, “Glad you found the place, finally.”

Quinn hunched further into his hoodie and grumped, “Look, Phee said not to bug you too much until you got your sea legs, so I decided not to visit for the first month. And of course I could find it.  _ You’re _ here.”

Tia opened her mouth to say something — she  _ hated _ watching people be uncomfortable in their skin — but Ambrose moved first. Hands still on the table, he lifted the cookie from his plate and slid it in Quinn’s direction. With his telekinesis. The gift that allowed him to lift a few bucks from any obnoxious fool’s wallet without touching them.

Tia fought not to let her mouth drop open. He never showed off for anyone but Tia. Ever. 

She tried not to feel just a little jealous about it.

“Oh, holy shit. Ambrose...” Quinn dragged his eyes away from the cookie to look at Ambrose with complete wonder. “I thought telekinesis was a fairytale. Nobody could be  _ that _ lucky with their gift.”

Fox stood up and took a step back, eyes huge. “God _ dess. _ How heavy? How far? You  _ have  _ to have tested it. Can you throw the cookie to me?”

Ambrose’s hand sparked a little when he reached back under the table to hold Tia’s hand. 

“Not much, not far, and no, he can’t,” she answered for him. Ambrose’s eyes were fixed on the table, and Tia thought they were lucky to get that much from him. “You should, uh…” She gave Fox a flat look. “Maybe, not so much. Or so, um, enthusiastically.”

Fox’s mouth had formed a tight line, and they nodded slowly. “Sorry. That’s just a hell of a lot cooler than any of our friends’ gifts.” They hesitated for a second and gave a worried glance at Ambrose, then Quinn. Then they spun on a heel and headed back to the counter.

“‘Any of our friends’? There are more of us?” Tia repeated, excited and hopeful despite the way Ambrose seemed to be getting less and less comfortable next to her. He wasn’t saying anything, but Tia knew his body language well enough not to need her gift to read him. Just a few more questions, then they could go… And come back later. To meet more people. “Here? Or, close by? How many? Can we meet them?”

Quinn’s hangdog look broke open into a grin at the questions. “Not too far. Down in Pilsen. There’s like eight of us that live together, and Phoenix knows more. Also, I guess the guy who runs this shop and his sister?” Quinn looked back at the counter, his voice raising in volume at the end of his statement. 

Fox made an affirmative hum from behind the coffee counter. “They’re really cool, Tia. You should meet them,” they added.

“I wonder what their gifts would look like to you,” Quinn said with an almost dreamy smile.

“I can’t wait to find out! You know how I see everything in colors, right? But I’ve mostly seen normal people. I wonder… I wonder if I’ll get to see lots of new colors, with the new gifts? Like, be the mantis shrimp and see you all in more colors than you can see yourself.” Tia heard Ambrose choke back a laugh, and she threw him a disgruntled look. “What?”

“Mantis shrimp?” Ambrose shook his head. He pulled his coffee cup close to him and took a sip while Tia ignored him to lean forward in Quinn’s space again. He was just so  _ colorful _ . If she stared long enough, could she separate some of the bright whiteness into more individual colors? She bet she could.

“Whoah,” Ambrose mumbled. He lifted his mug again and took a much deeper sip of his drink. “An earl grey latte? Is that lavender? How did you —” He shot a look back at the counter and stared in surprise. 

Fox was walking back over with two more mugs in his hands. They shrugged sheepishly. “I dunno, it just seemed fitting. Cam’s been helping me figure out what sorts of drinks people might like based on how they smell. It’s a game we’ve been playing. He’s a thousand times better than me.” They set down the mugs in front of Tia and Ambrose. Instead of beverages, there was some kind of tomato-based soup inside of them.

“Yum!” Tia yelped in delight. She drew both her drink and the soup closer to her and peered down at both mugs. She couldn’t decide which one she wanted to try first — the happy guess at her favorite, or the soup. 

She dipped the tip of her finger in her drink, cautious in case it was hot, and took a taste. Hot chocolate. Thank god. She would never admit it to Ambrose, who was addicted to the stuff, but she  _ despised _ coffee. 

“Thank you,” she grinned up at Fox. “This is amazing.”

Fox beamed so brightly it looked almost painful, their relief a shimmery, silvery blue emanating from them like a wave. “Oh man, I’m so glad. I was worried, since neither of your drinks are actually coffee. The soup is just a simple minestrone, but it’s cold out there, so you should warm up before heading out again.” Instead of crouching by the table this time, they shooed Quinn with a slight wave of their hand, and he scooted over to share his chair.

“Oh, yeah, it is pretty cold isn’t it,” Tia agreed. Her  _ least _ favorite time of year, when it was cold  _ and _ wet. It  seeped into her socks and in her bones and made it impossible to get warm again until spring. She had no idea where they were going to stay tonight, but pinch-face granny pusher had been pretty well off. What they lifted from him (the part they would keep, anyway) might be enough to get a place for a month. With heat. And maybe even their own shower. That would be amazing. 

She took a nice deep drink of the cocoa, then set it aside to work on the soup. The vegetables were actually firm and recognizable, and the flavor of the sausage exploded on her tongue like a spice bomb. It was amazing.

“Your friends,” Ambrose said. “That sounds like a lot of you, uh, gifted ones, live together. Is that safe?”

Fox shrugged. “It seems to be. Phoenix has been there for a while, I think she has part ownership in the building, and multiple gifted folks have been living there for as long as she has.”

“I think she knows someone who can sort of put up protections somehow?” Quinn added with a shrug of his own. Neither of them seemed concerned by the idea of being more visible in numbers.

Tia frowned and thought about how Ambrose couldn’t stand to be in the same place for long. The way he often insisted they sleep in shifts. The way he refused to speak about his life before Tia found him (or he found her, depending on who you asked). 

Well, crap. If she had to choose between Ambrose and meeting new people like her, she would choose Ambrose, hands down, every time. But it wasn’t a decision she wanted to make. It seemed unfair that random happenstance would bring all these marvelous people into her circle, then force her to run away from it. 

“I have a friend,” Ambrose said. “She’s powerful. More than me.” He glanced at Tia, who was careful to keep her surprise hidden. On any given day, Ambrose’s aura was a suppressed swirl of gray and green with streaks of black. It only appeared with any clarity when Ambrose was tired or happy beyond the hiding of it. But now his aura hummed around him like a shield, darker with memory and sadness than she’d ever seen it. “Her name is Imogen. She doesn’t like cities too much, but she could help. Keep you and your friends safe. With Phoenix’s friend, too, I mean. Two magics are better than one.”

Quinn glanced at Fox who frowned slightly and shook their head, then he reached out to where Ambrose’s hand was cupped around his ‘latte’. Quinn’s fingers hovered an inch away, then pulled back as he said, “That sounds great, Ambrose. But we’re pretty okay. Can she maybe help you two stay safe?”

“Or would you wanna come back with us tonight?” Fox offered. “There’s plenty of couches...”

“You don’t… I don’t think you — ” Ambrose started, then glanced at Tia. She widened her eyes in what she knew was a hopeful look, but she wouldn’t say anything. If Ambrose didn’t want to go, she wasn’t going to pressure him into it. “Will Phoenix be there?”

“Yeah? It’s what, Thursday? They should be home from work by the time we get there,” Fox glanced at Quinn for confirmation, who gave a noncommittal shrug. “They’re great. I think you’ll like them. They’re from the South Side and they know, like, everybody.”

“We’ll come by,” Ambrose said with the first genuine smile he’d managed since they first started talking about gifts. 

“With pizza,” Tia added, nodding her head with finality. “To say thank you, for helping us out earlier. I didn’t want to have to deck that guy, but man, what a douche.” She held up her fists the way Ambrose had taught her to and gave Fox a crooked smile. “Probably best for him. He wouldn’ta seen it coming, poor little normal.” 

Quinn snorted in amusement, then looked contritely at Ambrose before smiling at Tia. “Yeah, well... I was glad to help. You’re gifted; you’re family.”

Fox’s pride swirled around their head in vibrant deep purple clouds as they smiled fondly at Quinn. “Yeah. Which means you’re welcome whenever at our place. I get off work at six, so any time after seven is grand.”

“This is gonna be great!” Tia gushed as she picked up her cocoa. “I can’t wait to meet your friends! I’m going to have to come up with new names for new colors. Stassey, that’s a great name, right?"

Ambrose snorted, but Tia could see the smile he was hiding behind his spoon full of soup. “Whatever you say, Mouse.”

“Mouse?” Quinn’s tone was amused, but the smile on his face held not a drop of derision. “Fox, watch out. You’re not the only one with an animal name anymore.”

The grin on Fox’s face held nothing but delight. “So? That can only be a good thing.” As they got up to the sound to the door opening and customers walking in, they winked at Tia. “There’s always room for more in the puppy pile.”

 

~~~

 

“No.”

“Ambrose!” Tia could feel the whiny edge to her objection in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. She stood at the corner of Western and Division and looked around for the best alley to take them back in the general direction of their stuff. It would be faster to take the main street, but Ambrose avoided areas with cameras like they were snakes that would bite him. “They seem like so much fun!”

“Yeah, I could see how you were almost ready to throw yourself into a ‘puppy pile’ with Fox and Quinn right then and there,” Ambrose huffed with amusement.

“Oh! Shit!” Tia pulled their nicked wallet free from the hoodie pocket Ambrose had stashed it in and pulled out the obscene fold of bills inside. Twenties, fifties, hundreds… who the hell carried that much money? A quick count revealed three hundred dollars in cash, and Tia waved a hundred and fifty of it in Ambrose’s face. “You hold this. I’ll be right back.”

She sprinted inside the cafe, dropped a hundred and fifty in the charity jar, and sprinted back out before anyone could see her.

“And I was not!” Tia objected belatedly. Then she sighed. “Yeah, maybe I was. But Ambrose! They have gifts! And a house! Sounds like they’ve been there for awhile, totally safe —”

“Don’t,” Ambrose said. He grabbed Tia’s hand and pulled her towards the driveway they’d popped through on their mad dash to the cafe. “We’ll go. We’ll talk to them. But don’t assume that just because they haven’t been bothered by anyone that they won’t be. With that many magic folk in one space, it’s just a matter of time.”

“A matter of time before  _ what _ ?” Tia sighed.

Two blocks turned into four turned into eight. It wasn’t uncommon for Ambrose to take a couple miles to gather his thoughts, so Tia didn’t push him. There was only a little over three miles to their stuff at the youth center, so he had just under an hour to figure out how to say what he needed to say.

Tia and Ambrose weren’t technically ‘youths’, of course. She was in her early 20s, even if she couldn’t remember her exact birthday, and Ambrose was just a couple years older. She was small, though, and quirky enough to act a lot younger than she was. With Ambrose by her side to keep her sheltered from creepy freaks who like the tiny young girls, it worked in her favor most of the time. Like how it let her stash her and Ambrose’s stuff at the Broadway Youth Center. 

Before Ambrose, Tia had kept her pack with her all the time. Now she was on an endless walkabout with him, and their spike in income once they became a team meant a spike in how much stuff they carried. Chicago, though, was making great strides in trying to serve people under 21 who suffered homeless the most: the LGTBQ population. Recent transitional storage initiatives for queer homeless kids meant that finally, for once (as long as Ambrose stayed out of sight), they had someplace to take a load off. Literally. It was nice. 

She was coming back from the building, keys returned and packs safe in hand, when Ambrose finally seemed ready to talk. 

“There are people who take advantage of people like us,” Ambrose said as pulled his bag on his shoulders. Being bigger and stronger than Tia helped him carry more weight, but so did his gift. Though his pack weighed somewhere around sixty pounds, his gift made it feel like half that. Tia carried their tent, their pans and camp stove, and half of the food and water. Ambrose carried everything else.

“That’s not a surprise,” Tia shrugged. “There are always monsters looking to capitalize on other people.”

“It’s worse, though,” Ambrose insisted. He helped Tia heft her pack, adjusting the straps to make sure it rode her back rather than her shoulders. “They’re  _ also _ like us. Just stronger. Bigger magics. More resources to get what they want.”

It didn’t take much to make the connections. Tia sighed and gripped his hand as they headed to the bus stop. “You’re a good man, Ambrose. I’m proud of you for wanting to warn them.”

Ambrose nodded tightly and waited, shoulders tense.


	2. The Pilsen Litter take 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tia's excited about dinner at Quinn's house, along with all that entails.

“Whoah,” Tia huffed, staring up at the three story brick house in front of them. The general shape and size wasn’t anything remarkable — brick, narrow, gate in front, alleys to the side — but it hummed in Tia’s Sight. There weren’t enough letters in the alphabet to describe the shapes and colors and hues that rocketed around the building, through the walls, up from the ground, and into the sky. It was stunning and almost frightening how much magic danced around the house, and Tia took an instinctive step closer to Ambrose to tuck her face into his side. It was dizzying, seeing that much power. But it was… good, too. It was bright and sweet and familiar in a way that Tia hadn’t experienced before. 

“Whoah like, run? Or whoah like, this is cool?” Ambrose asked in a low voice.

“It’s a lot,” Tia admitted. “Protective magic, and the layers of energies from lots of different people.” 

For a moment Ambrose was silent, but he reached around and dug in Tia’s side pocket. He pulled her sunglasses out — big pink things in the shape of hearts with a rainbow of plastic gems at the corners — and slid them on her face. He kissed the top of her head. “Better?”

Tia peeked at the house again, and this time the colors were bearable, made muted by the glasses. With their brightness dimmed, Tia could start to pick patterns and shapes out of the energy. They looked like… mandalas? She squinted at the forms and traced the points of shapes. They seemed to be connection to charms and etches that, to anyone else, might seem like random bits of decoration or weathering. Wavelengths of browns, greens, and reds stretched between them and pulsed in a steady thrum.

“Ambrose. I think it’s a shield.”

Ambrose grunted, then shrugged. “Okay. You wanna ring the bell?”

“Sure,” Tia sighed. She didn’t mind taking on the main speaking role of their little duo, but sometimes it would be nice for Ambrose to be the voice. There were so many shapes and colors, Tia was sure she was going to be way too distracted to finish more than one sentence in five.

A somewhat squawky voice came from the intercom fitted into the gate. “Hey, hello? Who is it?”

The wispy colors from the box looked somewhat familiar, but Tia had to pull down her glasses to get a good look. “Fox?” she asked with uncertainty. “It’s Tia. And Ambrose, of course. Outside. On your stoop. Is this a stoop? Sidewalk?” Ambrose coughed to hide a laugh and Tia suppressed her overwhelmed babbling by clearing her throat. “We’re here.”

“Sweet! Quinn! They’re here! Okay, I’ll buzz you in the gate.” Fox’s enthusiasm came in the exact right shade of orange and reached out as if to lick them. The electric hum of the gate unlocking clicked on, and Ambrose pushed it open. 

They had just crossed the threshold when there was a gallumphing on the other side of the front door. It flew open to Quinn looking both harried and welcoming, this time in a bright red hoodie. “Hey! Come in! It’s up the stairs. That door” — he pointed to one of the two doors just inside the tiny entryway — “goes to the recording studio. We’re on the top floor.” He ushered them ahead of him as he babbled on. “Mel and Bea are down there messing around, recording an album or some shit. Jess is in the kitchen doing something, Phee just got home, and Fox is trying to decide what kind of drinks you’ll want.”

Tia craned her neck to look behind them, impressed. The recording studio didn’t seem to have any sound or color and energy or  _ anything _ coming it from it. She knew on a factual level that sound studios were soundproof, but hot damn. She wondered if it would be the sort of place she could curl up in if she ever get overwhelmed. It didn’t happen often — usually when things got violent or screamy — but wasn’t completely unlikely. Which made her wonder… was there someone else like her here in the house? Her heart picked up speed in excitement. 

“Thank you for having us!” she squeaked, spinning in circles as she took in the layers of presence around her. “This is so amazing. You’re so amazing. There is so much energy and happiness and color here!” She dragged her hand along the wall and watched in fascination as the swirl of colors parted around her fingertips. Her own subtle energy left a wake in what was already there, and it made her smile in unreasonable delight.

Quinn chuckled. “Yeah, I guess there is. I’ve gotten used to it, which seems a shame, now. I probably sound ungrateful saying sometimes it’s too much.” They’d all reached the top of the stairs, so he quickly added, “The door’s open, just push.”

Tia turned and grabbed the edge of his hoodie. She pushed up her glasses with her free hand and took in the radiance of his aura with a pleased sigh. “It’s wonderful that you’re used to it. That’s, that’s good. The way it should be. Don’t feel guilty about it being too much sometimes. Like my grandma always said, too much of even the best things can be, well,” Tia squinted and tried to remember how the saying went. Her brain was cooperating, the memory buried too deep, so she shrugged and laughed. “Too much.” She nodded her head down hard, emphasizing the point by letting her glasses fall back into place.

The smile on Quinn’s face held a fondness and gratitude that swirled together into a candy-colored mix of seafoam green and rose. Gratitude wasn’t a new color, given how much Tia and Ambrose donated their ill-gotten gains, but fondness? Yeah, that was new. And completely lovely.  

“Thanks, Tia.” He brushed his fingers against the hand that was holding his hoodie as he said, “Come on. You gotta meet the crew. You too, big guy,” he added to Ambrose.

Tia flounced up the last couple steps with contained squeaks of excitement as she threw open the door. The blast of light and color hit her almost immediately, and even with the sunglasses as a filter, she had to take a step back and turn her head. “Holy cow!”

“Shit. You okay?” Quinn slipped past Ambrose and leaned over Tia to check on her. Almost immediately, he turned to Ambrose and whispered, “Was this a bad idea?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Tia assured him, waving her hand in his general direction. She paused, stared at her hand a second — handy things, hands, hah! — and then covered both eyes (well, lenses) with them. She spread her fingers just enough to see the rest of the people in the room.

She tilted her head and whispered at Quinn out of the side of her mouth. “Don’t worry, you’re still the most radiant, sunshiney one of the bunch.”

“Well, this is only, like, half of them, but thanks, dear,” Quinn murmured in her ear as he led her further into the room. 

“Hmmm,” Tia hummed. She grabbed Quinn’s hoodie again and tugged him a few steps forward to where Fox was standing behind a couple who were preening in a mirror. One was tall and thin and all angles, including the cut of their jet black hair. The other was just a bit taller than Tia, with white-blonde hair dyed with streaks of bright color. The two looked almost like photo negatives of each other, and their clothing emphasized that. Tia thought they were feminine, but she wasn’t going to make assumptions just yet, and she’d ask later. 

“That one,” she gestured at the one with dark hair and a light dress, “looks like everything sticks. Energy clings to them like a static pulse of white light lined with gray.” Mute and calming, the aura mesmerized her. Even the dust that swirled in lamp light seemed to still near them. 

“That one,” she said, gesturing at the blonde in a little black dress, “is hard to describe.” She took a step closer — not quite enough to be in their personal space, she didn’t think — and squinted. “It’s like they have a prism around them. Like, everything gets more precise the closer it gets to the eyes.” 

“Tia,” Ambrose grumbled. 

Tia ignored him for a moment, clutching Quinn’s hoodie. “I don’t know what it means. He just wanted to know what it looks like.” She turned to look at the only other person she could see, someone with medium brown skin and short-cropped, kinky hair sitting on a blue couch. Light shimmered like a second skin around them, shifting the way she’d seen solar panels on light farms move to catch the sun. The figure underneath looked dapper in a suit vest and matching slacks, and Tia could feel her mouth drop open. “How cool!” Tia laughed, delighted. “Glamor? Shape shifting? Gotta be something like that.”

“Oh shit, they’ll be so pissed you saw it already,” Quinn giggled. “Lemme introduce you.” 

He stood up straight and whistled a quick, complicated melody, and everyone fell quiet. “Hey, folks. These are our new friends, Tia and Ambrose. I ran into them near Rosetta today.” He grinned at Tia for a moment before pointing out each member of his family. The lines that bound him to each of them flashed brighter as he said their names. “This is Avery, and the little peacock next to her is Riley.” They both waved coyly, though Riley was busy giving Quinn the stink-eye. “You know Fox already, and over there is Phee — Phoenix — on the couch. Jess is somewhere...” Quinn twirled around just in time to see another person enter the room from the back of the apartment, wiping their hands on a dishtowel.

“I heard the whistle, what’s up?” 

At first, Tia didn’t see an actual person. Whatever physical form was there was surround by a thick cloud of fog. It was black, but not the threatening kind of black that would make Tia flinch. It was more like the black of onyx — absorbing darkness and dispersing it. But it was still… unsettling. Tia took an instinctive step back to hide a little behind Quinn. She ducked her head as the swirl — more an absence of light than color — expanded and ebbed.

“Sorry if I was too loud,” she whispered. They seemed like the kind of person who didn’t need excess energy giving them more trouble. “I’m just really excited to be here.”

“No, it’s fine. Happy noise is always welcome. And always present,” the person — Jess, presumably? — said with a soft smile. “Glad you came by. Quinn couldn’t shut up about you two.”

At being called out, Quinn ducked his head with a sheepish glance towards Ambrose. “Sorry, I just wanted to know if Jess had ever heard of gifts like yours. Phee too.”

A waft of  _ something  _ floated from behind Jess, trailing them the way scents looked in cartoons. It swirled for a moment before trailing further towards Fox’s nose. It occurred to Tia that she was a grubby little misfit among these clean, well-pressed folk. Despite Fox’s earlier reassurance that she didn’t smell bad, she was well aware of how long it’d been since she’d last had a proper shower.

Jess’ hands looked so clean and soft when they finished drying them on the dishtowel. Tia looked down at her own fingertips, smudged brown and a little crusty under the nails, and resisted the urge to tuck her hands in her pockets.

“Um, where’s the bathroom?” she asked, squinting at the doors along the hallway. “Could I clean up a little?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jess said with a smile, and stepped aside to point down the hall. “First door on your left. The heater’s in the basement, so the hot water takes a while to show up, but it’ll come.”

Hot water. Hot damn. Tia dropped her bag from her shoulders, swung it at Ambrose, and took off for the bathroom before he could protest the extra weight. She heard Ambrose say something about thanks for welcoming us into your home and blah blah blah before the door swung shut with an accidental slam. Then she was too busy yanking off her jacket and glasses to try and hear the rest.

She tugged on the handle to the water and watched with delight as it poured out of the tap with unchecked force. When she had a place of her own, some day, she wasn’t even going to bother with the fancy screens that slowed the flow of tap water. For years she’d fought with motion-sensor faucets, trickle-level flows, and mediocre temperatures. She wanted a goddamn waterfall in her theoretical future bathroom.

The water was so hot it stung, and Tia spent a few long happy moments washing her hands and face until the olive skin turned pink with scrubbing and heat. She thought about Fox’s sense of smell and did a quick freshening of her pits, too. Then she flushed the toilet to hide the reason for being so long in the bathroom and washed her hands again for good measure. 

“You have an amazing bathroom,” she gushed as she hopped out of the bathroom. “That tub is big enough to cover my boobs and knees at the same time!”

Phoenix laughed good-naturedly. “That’s the exact reason I fell in love with this apartment. The tub on the second floor isn’t half as good.” Everyone was standing in a group in the dining room, and Phoenix and Fox moved aside to let Tia into the circle.

Tia slid in next to Ambrose, frowning at Phoenix. “But you don’t have any —”

A sharp jab from Ambrose had Tia closing her mouth. Perhaps saying ‘boobs’ twice in as many sentences was uncouth for proper land-owning folk. Ambrose knew about such things, and Tia trusted his judgment. “I bet you get bubbles the size of your face in that thing.”  

“You’re welcome to see for yourself...” Fox said casually, as if they offered a bath to everyone who came by the house. Though, given their generosity of spirit, that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Tia was aware that she was bouncing in place, but she didn’t actually accept their offer except to give Fox a hopeful smile. Ambrose had Things to Say, and if they didn’t throw him and her out, well, maybe then she could have a bubble bath. She’d only seen them on TV, but she bet it was amazing experience.

“Maybe,” she agreed.

“But first, I think we should talk,” Ambrose added, tone somber.. 

Tia glanced up at Ambrose. His body language still leaned towards Quinn and Fox — enamored, Tia decided was the best word for it — but his sad, focused expression centered on Phoenix. Weirdly, his energy seemed to be syncing with Jess’, which threw Tia for a loop. She glanced over at Jess, who took him in with equanimity, then back at Ambrose’s torn expression. Oh boy. This was going to get  _ interesting _ .

“Well, that’s  _ our _ cue to leave,” Avery said, raising a perturbed eyebrow at Fox, who shrugged it off. “Come on, Rile. We’re late as it is.” 

“Right. Sorry to dash off, folks, but we can’t keep our dates waiting,” Riley blew kisses at everyone, even Tia and Ambrose, her glee and anticipation for the evening ahead bubbling over.

“I mean, we  _ can,  _ but not for too long. There’s a fine line between coy and rude.” And with that, Avery swept out of the room, Riley trailing in her wake. Quinn’s connection lines followed them out the door. Tia wondered if he’d be able to tell exactly where they went on their date.

“Shall we all sit down? Make ourselves comfortable for this talk?” Phoenix asked with polite warmth, gesturing to the table to his left. “Cubs, drinks?”

Fox nodded and immediately asked Tia, “More hot chocolate?” Quinn laid a hand on Jess’ shoulder and looked a question, which received a gentle nod.

“Oh, yes please,” Tia agreed. “Ambrose won’t drink anything but tea. Herbal tea, no black. No caffeine after 5pm, unless we’re walking still, or need to take a long watch, that’s his rule.” 

“Tia,” Ambrose sighed. He gave Fox a small smile. “Whatever you’re making is fine.”

“Where are Avery and Riley going?” Tia couldn’t help but interrupt. “Is it glamorous? Do they dance? They look like people who would love to dance.”

“Tia, why don’t you order the pizza we promised?” Ambrose interrupted again. 

“Would they teach me to dance?” Tia pressed. “I mean, if we came back some day.”

Jess chuckled softly as they all took seats around the table, except Fox and Quinn who headed to the kitchen. “They love to dance. I hope Ri and Eliot are smart enough to take them somewhere with a good DJ,” they said to Tia. Then, to Ambrose, they added, “And I just put a pan of mostaccioli in the oven when you walked in. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

“What is mostaccioli?” Tia asked. It had to be good to compete with pizza, and damn, Tia was hungry. She couldn’t remember now why she didn’t the eat the cookie earlier, but now it just seemed like a silly decision on her part. “Are Ri and Eliot gifted, too?”

“I wanted to talk about your safety,” Ambrose interrupted as he guided Tia by the elbow to the table. Tia didn’t sit down, though, but hovered behind Ambrose to watch his back. Not that she didn’t trust these guys, but as nice as they were, she didn’t  _ actually  _ know them.

“For who?” Phoenix asked with an open face. “Anyone in particular? Or is this a general worry?” The question was genuine, but he didn't seem at all worried himself. 

Ambrose put his hands on the table, palms up, and Tia bit her bottom lip. That was as close to a sign of a peace offering as Ambrose was likely to get with strangers. It took a lot for him to bear his palms, but Tia would bet Phoenix had no idea what it meant. She watched Ambrose’s face, worried about whatever he was about to reveal. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, that much she was sure of.

“Have you ever met a wizard?” he asked.

Phoenix watched Ambrose closely for a few seconds before answering. “Well, not someone who claimed the title, no. But I have known people of power. There was one in my neighborhood growing up. She was a blessing.”

Tia watched Ambrose’s concentration shift, his aura glowing bigger and brighter as he lowered his defenses. The green and gray were more shot through with more spiderwebbing streaks of black than she’d ever seen before, and it made something in her stomach clench. 

“It’s a rare person of power who can escape being caught in the web of the Upper Caste,” Ambrose said haltingly. “How well did you know her?”

Fox slinked in with a cup of hot chocolate for Tia, and Quinn followed right after with tea for Ambrose and Jess, smiling brightly as he handed them out. Phoenix placed a calming hand on Quinn’s arm and he slid into a chair beside Phoenix, looking around the table curiously. Fox stood behind him and played with his curls. 

“She was friends with my parents — with everyone on the block. We called her Gramma Odette. And you’re right that she was a rare breed, but this was the South Side of Chicago in the 80s and she was a poor black woman. No one paid her any mind.”

“She was lucky,” Ambrose said, a frown cracking at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at Tia and then back to his hands. “Before I tell you what I know, I have to ask — what  _ do  _ you know of the wizards on the coasts?”

Quinn frowned, Fox’s eyebrows jumped to their hairline, and Jess gave Phoenix a look, all of which Phoenix seemed to ignore in favor of watching Ambrose closely. There was something about Phoenix’s demeanor or face that shifted subtly, and Tia no longer felt safe using the pronoun  _ he  _ for them. After a moment, they said, “I know the stories of how those who call themselves wizards vie for power back and forth, east and west, and there are rumors that sometimes they pull gifted people out of obscurity and teach them the ways of the order...” 

“That’s… almost accurate. I don’t... “ Ambrose took a deep breath and looked at Jess. “They’re not good people. That’s the first thing you have to know about them. And they don’t teach the ways of the Order — they use ‘lessons in power’ as the term for using gifted kids. Indoctrination isn’t teaching. Which I can say because that’s what happened to me.”

It was Jess who took a deep breath and moved closer to Ambrose, a line of worry between their eyebrows the only shift in their expression.

“There are two factions. The West Coast Order is based in LA. The East Coast Order is based on Charleston, South Carolina. They call themselves The Order because that’s what they think about themselves.” He snorted. “Bringing order to the chaotic free-for-all anarchy us little mundane magic users live in. Those of us who reject their self-aggrandization call them the Upper Caste.

“They found me in Baltimore. My parents loved the ocean, took me there all the time. It was the first place I learned that I could do something amazing.” Ambrose sighed and spread his hands wide with a shrug. “It was a shell. Out of my reach, but only by a few inches. And I got it.”

He paused and gave Tia a sad look. She hooked her chin on his shoulder and took a steadying breath for both of them. He never talked about a family. Never talked about first finding his gift.

“It wasn’t long after that  _ they _ showed up.” Ambrose dug his fingernails into his palms.  “They… they told my parents that it was a scholarship to the most prestigious boarding school in the US. They would even pay my parents a generous stipend — a bribe for silence and acquiescence, I realized later — for me to come live with them. Learn from them. Be better. Be powerful. They said that a lot. ‘Powerful.’” He looked up at Phoenix. 

“The first three or four years were like a storybook. Poor boy with harried parents gets taken away to a place of wealth and decadence. Lessons in magic, among other things. I loved it. Loved the attention, loved being surrounded by people who were more like me, loved watching my gift get bigger and stronger. I was going to make everyone proud. Show my parents what I’d become. How…  _ powerful, _ ” Ambrose spit out the word. “I was so, so stupid.” He shook his head, his spiky purple hair tickling Tia’s cheek. 

“When I was 17, I went on my first recruiting mission. It was the same song and dance they’d performed for my parents. Seductive and promising and charming. The girl, Angie, was twelve. She’s a firestarter.” Ambrose swallowed. “We knew they weren’t going to let her go, and that wasn’t acceptable. So we took her. The parents... didn’t survive. And it was my fault.”

The silence in the small room felt deafening after Ambrose’s quiet voice stopped ringing in it. Tia wanted to collapse on him, hug him, rub his hair and promise that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d been a kid, that he’d more than made up for it in the ways he’d helped so many people and in the way he helped Tia. But Ambrose wouldn’t appreciate that in a room full of strangers. The point of his story wasn’t to make anyone feel bad for him — it was to make them understand the point he was trying to get across. So she stayed where she was, fluttery heart too loud in her chest as Ambrose pulled his tea towards him and took a drink.

“But they...” Quinn’s voice was no more than a whisper, directed at Phoenix, his face lined with pain. Jess looked like they were going to hush him, but didn’t. Fox’s hands were on his shoulders, kneading gently. “I’m so sorry, Ambrose. What happened?”

Ambrose set his cup down and looked up at Quinn. “I left. The next day. Borrowed some money from one of my friends on campus and took a bus back home. I tried to track my parents down, but I didn’t have any luck. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was weird how I never missed them. Rarely thought about them. Now I know it was because of an elder manipulating emotions and memory.” A look of disgust crossed his face. “The influence didn’t last once I left city limits. But it was too late. My parents were gone.

“After that, I… well, I looked. I knew people who weren’t part of the Caste but hovered on the fringes. A friend took me in for a while even though she couldn’t help me like I thought she could. Her gift —” Ambrose frowned. “Anyway, when the Caste came for us, we ran in different directions. She ended up in the west somewhere, I think. I came to Chicago. Found Tia. We… we never sleep in the same place twice.” He gave Phoenix a fierce look. “They can’t have us.” 

“They won’t.” Fox’s voice was just as fierce, their knuckles white on the back of Quinn’s chair.

“You’re safe here,” Phoenix said with certainty, as Jess slowly and carefully held out a hand to Ambrose.

“I don’t want to be rude, but you don’t really known much about the Caste,” Ambrose said, voice kind and firm. He didn’t take Jess’ hand but gave them an apologetic smile. 

Tia stared at where Jess settled their hand, fingertips mere inches apart from Ambrose’s on the wood, and frowned. Ambrose hated touching people, even hated showing them his palms. Over and over again he reminded Tia that she shouldn’t let people have much skin contact with her, either. He always said something about power drains and psychic transference and vulnerability, but Tia rarely paid much attention. She hadn’t ever had reason to to think she would be in danger from a mere handshake before, but now… Now she realized that Ambrose had this whole world apart from her, full of strange and powerful beings so awful that he couldn’t bring himself to share it with her before. What terrible things did he know that would never, in a million years, have occurred to Tia?

“You don’t understand how dangerous it is,” Ambrose continued, as if to drive in the point of Tia’s sudden revelation. “How precarious it is, for all of you to be in the same place, openly magical, open to attack. Tia says someone has put down some protection charms —” he glanced up at Tia, who confirmed the information with a nod “— but you’re not safe. You’re just lucky you’ve been overlooked for so long. It’s not Tia and me who need more protecting. It’s you.”  

“Ambrose,” Jess said gently, “We appreciate your concern, truly. But if you think I would let these kids live under this roof without some very powerful wards in place to keep us safe, you...”

Phoenix interrupted. “We’ve had some help in the past, keeping under the radar. Chicago isn’t a hotbed of Caste activity, and just because we’re visible to Tia doesn’t mean we’re vulnerable.”

“Please stay, Ambrose.” Quinn’s voice was rough and pleading. Fox’s face was creased with worry.

“Staying would —” Ambrose started, then glanced at Tia. His frown grew deeper.

Tia had absolutely no idea what that look meant. She glanced at her hot chocolate, which she hadn’t touched, and straightened. Was she missing some sort of hospitality cue, or was Ambrose ready to have her distract them from the heavy weight of his story? She wasn’t very good at hospitality cues, but she was great at distraction. She picked up the mug, sipped it, and burst into a bright grin. The second sip of the now lukewarm drink was a little more enthusiastic than she’d intended, and some splashed on her nose. Whatever — just evidence of  _ really _ enjoying it, she thought. “This is the best thing ever,” she praised Fox. “Thank you.”

Watching Fox’s face light up was its own special kind of magic. “Welcome, Mouse.”

If Tia was grinning before, her expression was probably near frightening now. No one but Ambrose had ever called her Mouse before, and that simple gesture of a nickname made something in her stomach bubbly. It was a good thing she was the only one who could see energies — she was probably surrounded by a disgusting glow of bubblegum pink. She couldn’t come up with anything to say, but she bounced in place unable to hide her glee. “Want to try it, Ambrose?”

Ambrose’s smiled. “No thanks. I think I’m gonna take a walk around the building for a minute.”

“Want me to point out the —”

“No,” Ambrose said, shaking his head. “You finish your cocoa, hang out with Fox and Quinn.” Tia opened her mouth to argue — she couldn’t even remember the last time they were out of sight of each other — but Ambrose gave her a reassuring look. “Phoenix, Jess, want to show me your wards?”

“I feel a bit like the building inspector has come,” Jess said with grin. “Think we’ll pass muster, Phee?”

“I’m confident we will,” Phoenix said with a smile of their own. “But I’m more than happy to show you around, Ambrose.” The three of them rose, and Phoenix gestured toward the apartment door, for Ambrose to precede them out. “Cubs, take good care of our guest.”

Tia couldn’t help the handful of steps she took to follow Ambrose out the door. She still wasn’t keen on the idea of him going outside without her, but then he signed their symbol for  _ no worries _ . She watched the door close behind them, twitching with uncertainty. All of a sudden this giant house had too many stairs and closed doors.

She shot Fox and Quinn a smile which, by her normal standard of enthusiasm, probably wasn’t quite up to par. “Um…”

Quinn looked up at Fox, who raised their eyebrows back. “Yeah... um?” 

“How about we... oh!” Fox turned toward the kitchen. “Let’s set the dinner table. The mostaccioli’s gotta come out in a minute or it’ll burn.” 

“Um,” Tia said again, raising an eyebrow at Fox. “Silverware goes in a certain order, right? Two on one side of a plate, one on the other? With a napkin? And, uh…” She cocked her head and tried to remember dinner with her grandma. Potpourri, drippy candles on lace doilies, bowls of fruit and a plate of cookies. She smiled. “Eat using utensils outside first, work your way in, napkin on your legs, and keep the drink away from the edge… “Aha!” she said with a snap of her fingers and a grin. “Cups.”

“Sounds about right,” Fox said with a generous smile as they tapped Quinn’s shoulder then stepped away from the table in the direction of the kitchen. “Quinn can show you where to find things. Come on.” 

Tia was a strong believer in  _ fake it ‘till you make it _ , but with Fox and Quinn, she really didn’t have to. She could ask questions, make mistakes, do something completely stupid, and they would just smile at her, maybe shake their heads. It was… amazing. Yeah, that was the word for it. Tia found herself able to turn her back to them as she navigated the tricky process of getting the knives and the forks in the right order, the napkins straight and on the right side, the glasses in the right spots. She even almost dropped one at one point — oh god,  _ that _ was a bad moment in her fickle brain — but neither Fox nor Quinn seemed angry or upset about it. Quinn just said “whoops!” and Tia put the glass in the right spot without reprimand.

Best. Friends.  _ Ever _ . 

At least, Tia was ready to think so. Not that she wanted to replace Ambrose, but she was sure he wouldn’t mind new friendships. Ambrose was a loner, and sometimes Tia thought even she was too much for him (before her brain said,  _ no, duh, he’d get rid of us faster than you can say BORED if he wanted to _ ). Tia, however,  _ loved  _ people. And this whole house full of people? Wonderful, amazing, weird, quirky people with stories she wanted to hear with more hot cocoa in her hands and a blanket over her lap…

Well, maybe if she learned to set the table like regular folk could, she could come back for more dinners. Just occasionally. And Ambrose would like that, if it was just… every once in awhile.

Then Fox brought out the maso-whatsit, and Tia completely forgot to pay attention to Proper Table Setup. 

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” she squeaked, bouncing a little in place as she watched Fox set the casserole in the center of the table and start cutting it into squares. “It smells like ambrosia! What is it?”

“Mostaccioli,” Quinn said with a silly grin. 

“It’s baked pasta with sauce and cheese and, if Phee loves us, some turkey sausage.” Fox inhaled deeply through their nose and added, “Oh, yeah, they love us. Also, there are like three kinds of cheese in it, too.”

“Sausage?” Tia repeated. She stared at the steamy dish of wonder for a moment before Fox’s words caught up to her. “There’s more than one kind of cheese?!” She crowded behind Fox, hoping they didn’t mind the proximity, so she could investigate further. Stringy bits of cheese fell from Fox’s knife as they cut into the casserole, and Tia could feel her mouth water.

Fox leaned until their back was pressed up against Tia, pointing out each thing as it was named. “There’s ricotta, mozzarella, and parmesan. And this big piece right here has your name on it.”

Tia nodded quickly, her twisty curls rasping at Fox’s face before she realized what she was inflicting on this poor marvel of a human being. She tried to step away, then, on second thought, forward towards the food. Her indecision tangled her feet and sent her tumbling towards the unnaturally clean wooden floor. She laughed at the tumble, then grinned up at Fox. “Should I use a fork or a spoon?”

Quinn skidded around the table and reached out a hand to help her up. “It should hold together with a fork just fine, Mouse. Dinner really isn’t that formal here, I promise.”

“Quinn!” Tia giggled, waving a hand at the table before she grabbed Quinn’s hands and tugged herself up. “You have napkins! Made of fabric!”

The very real fear that she’d do something unforgivable spiked through her stomach, and for a moment she felt nauseous. As Quinn helped her up to her feet, Tia saw everyone’s energy dim in the light of her own sickly brown insecurity. She swallowed and pushed it back, focusing on the fact that Ambrose was still close by in case someone took objection to an accidental faux pas.  _ Use a fork, keep the napkin on my lap, don’t chew with my mouth open, don’t reach over someone’s plate _ , she recited.  _ Watch the others, make sure I do as they do. It will be fine. _

“Cloth napkins are just so we don’t create more paper waste,” Fox said with a dismissive wave of a hand. Then, “Oh, here they are,” a moment before the door opened as Jess, Ambrose, and Phoenix entered.

Jess had a pleasant smile on their face, even with the dark cloud — silver and stringy and agitated — following them around. Phoenix seemed relaxed and much more feminine, chuckling and saying, “It wasn’t a pretty sight, let me tell you.”

Tia cocked her head and tried to understand why Phoenix suddenly looked so much different. It wasn’t their aura; the shifting scales retained their color and shape around Phoenix. But their physical appearance had obviously changed. Their hair was a little longer and more styled, eyelashes thicker and longer, eyebrows thinner and more shaped. Their lips were fuller, their cheekbones were more prominent, and their bone structure was lighter. It was both subtle and profound, and Tia had to make a conscious effort not to stare at the stunning transformation. Phoenix had been attractive before, but now they were  _ gorgeous _ .

The thing was, Tia considered herself pretty savvy. She’d spent the years between her grandmother dying and finding Ambrose bouncing from one LGTBQ youth center to another. She prided herself on never assuming gender or orientation, and always getting the pronouns right when she knew them.

For once, though, Tia was a little at a loss. Phoenix was a shapeshifter, or at least a master of glamor, and Tia didn’t know whether it was rude to ask about their gift. Even if it was necessary to ask what pronouns they preferred. That was a conversation best had later, in a more quiet moment. Until then, Tia would just take her cues from the rest of the Pilsen crowd.

“It’s okay,” Ambrose was saying. His voice was familiar in its low rumble but sparking with a hint of fond amusement Tia rarely heard directed at anyone but her. He was smiling,  _ actually smiling _ , and a little tangle of worry that Ambrose would drag her away at any moment finally unknotted in her brain. An actual smile combined with fond amusement? Practically glitter and rainbows for Ambrose. “Graveyard dirt and blood and quartz don’t mix. It’s just not wise.” He spared a glance for Tia and gave her a crooked smile before turning back to Phoenix. “You’re lucky you escaped without the breath of the damned on your neck for the rest of your life.”

Phoenix’s eyes grew wide as plates for a good five seconds, then Jess snorted in amusement and Phoenix pretend-frowned at Ambrose. “Don’t play, man. If we’re trying to teach the cubs and ducklings when it’s right to take caution...”

Jess interrupted with a quick squeeze of Phoenix’s shoulder and a smile at Ambrose. “Speaking of cubs, someone’s been busy. Looks like it’s time for dinner, folks.”

Ambrose’s eyes landed on the table, and Tia thought she saw some strands of golden appreciation in his aura. She stood — as tall and straight as she could manage — next to Quinn, and gave a proud smile. 

“It was mostly Fox and Quinn, but I helped.”

Ambrose laughed and nodded. “I bet you did.”

“I’m sure the cubs were grateful, Tia. Thank you,” Phoenix said with a gracious smile as she moved toward the table. She gestured toward the chairs, adding, “Don’t stand on ceremony, everyone have a seat. This smells too good to not start eating right away.”

“I can tell already this is a good do, Jess,” Fox said as they grabbed hold of a spatula and held a hand out for Tia’s plate. “Guests first.”

Tia froze for a second, darting glances between Fox, Quinn, and the rest of the assembled ragtag crew. She had  _ no idea _ what the proper protocol for this sort of thing was. Did she hand him her plate? Did she choose someone else’s plate to give him so she could show deference? How the hell did she know whose plate was whose?

A quick glance at the table showed that the tableware all matched. The plates were all white with watercolor-style swaths of color through the middle. Randomly, Tia remembered that Frank Lloyd Wright hated lipstick on cups, so he designed his with red on the outside rim, and it made her giggle. She grabbed a random plate and held it out. 

Grinning, Fox scooped out the big piece they had cut earlier — the one that had been designated as Tia’s — and slid it onto the plate. They handed it back with a wink, saying, “Enjoy, Mouse.”

Tia stared at the drippy perfection that was at least the size of her hand in the middle of her plate. She stepped back enough to let the rest of the gang have their share and fought the urge to find a corner to eat in. Under normal circumstances, she’d be mobbed about now. Folks in shelters would be screaming about how she got a bigger serving. They’d throw out conspiracy theories and offers of dirty favors that would make anyone blush. But no one in this room seemed to be paying her giant serving much attention as she clutched the plate. Even Ambrose seemed at ease. He picked up a plate from the table like it was nothing, sparing the dangerously empty space at Tia’s back not even the smallest glance. 

For a moment, Tia though she should offer the plate to Phoenix. It would be a show of respect and deference, handing over the slice to the actual person of power who would expect it. But Phoenix wasn’t actually paying attention to her. Instead, she was pouring glasses of water from the pitcher Fox had brought out earlier. Jess would be Tia’s next choice, but they didn’t seem to be paying attention, either.

For a brief moment, Tia wondered if a house this well off might actually have something like ziploc bags. She could eat at least half of her serving without getting sick, maybe stow away the other half for when…

Ambrose’s heavy and reassuring hand landed on Tia’s shoulder, and she stared up at him. He didn’t seem worried at all. He pushed Tia gently into a chair next to Quinn.

All thoughts of saving food flew out of Tia’s head as she picked up a fork and tasted the maso-whatever for the first time. The flavor exploded in her mouth, just a touch this side of too hot — perfect, in other words — and she didn’t quite manage to hold back a moan of intense appreciation.

Quinn giggled, mouth full of food, and nodded. He swallowed most of his mouthful before talking around the rest, “Yeah, exactly. Jess, this is delicious. Thanks for making it.”

With a delighted, fond smile, Jess replied, “You’re welcome, Q. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. But don’t forget the ducklings all still need to eat.”

Fox was just putting a portion on the last plate — their own — as they said, “There’s plenty, and Rile and Av said they didn’t need any saved for them. I asked.”

The words sank in, and Tia stared up at Fox with perhaps a bit more stringy cheese trailing from her fork to her mouth than was actually proper. 

“Wait,” she asked, eyes wide. “Does that mean we can have seconds?” 


	3. The Pilsen Litter take 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ambrose lets his guard down, whatever that means.

Ambrose didn’t know quite how he was feeling, except safe in a way he hadn’t been since he was a part of the Caste. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being surrounded by obviously powerful folk who felt like family until this odd little crew. 

Not that he didn’t feel out of depth in some ways. Phoenix was a shapeshifter like none he’d ever met before, and he’d been wondering how to ask them about their gift. Not just what they could do with it (the extent of how much they could change their appearance) but also how to properly address them. Tia, who had a lot more experience with the variety of folk under the umbrella of ‘queer’ than he did, would kill him if he made assumptions about pronouns for a genderqueer person. Maybe he should stick with ‘they’. Or ask Tia.

Walking back into the Pilsen house stung. The wards around the house were  _ damn _ impressive in a way he couldn’t communicate to Phoenix and Jess because it was too long a story. And invited too many questions. Besides, Ambrose thought he might be out of words. He hadn’t talked this much in so long. It felt like a skill too long out of practice, awkward and fumbling in execution, that would leave him vulnerable and at this crowd’s mercy.

Not that he thought they would take advantage of him. He glanced up from the steps to watch the easy way Jess and Phoenix knocked shoulders and shared smiles as they led him back into the house, and he internally grimaced at how predisposed he already was to trust them. He’d even let Tia stay inside while he went out to look at the wards. He hadn’t let Tia out of his sight once since he’d found her, dirty and grinning under a cardboard box and comparing the winter rain to diamonds. 

“Just be glad I wasn’t the one trying to put up the herbal protection charms. I will never get the hang of that sort of magic,” Phoenix said at the second floor landing. 

“Oh my goddess, Phee. Remember that one time you — Ambrose, you’ll like this.” Jess’ dark eyes glinted with humor as they turned to address him. “Phoenix was trying to make a charm for repelling negative energy for the car — we have this beater that fits most of us and we all share it. Anyway, I come into the kitchen one afternoon and Phee’s got this absolute mess on the table. Really loamy dirt and crushed rock made into a paste with pigeon blood, the carcass just hanging out in the sink, for goddess’ sake, and I just... It looked like demonic cookie dough.”

Ambrose stopped his slow ascent upwards and stared. 

“Pigeon’s blood…. and dirt?” He blinked and gave Phoenix a startled look. “Graveyard dirt?” he hazarded.

Phoenix winced and nodded. “With quartz. To amplify the spell.”

“You…” Ambrose couldn’t imagine what would have happened. Graveyard dirt always carried a sense of menace and ill-intent to the person it was directed at. And if it wasn’t directed?  _ And _ it was amplified? it was probably the poor dead pigeon that had suffered the worst of the effect. “I don’t suppose the pigeon, uh —” 

“Yes,” Jess said with a solemn nod, though they looked like they were holding their breath, trying not to laugh.

“How did you know?” Phoenix looked stricken. “Jess saw the puff of feathers and managed to throw a mixing bowl over it so when it exploded, it didn’t get  _ everywhere, _ but seriously. How could I have predicted  _ that _ ?”

Ambrose’s jaw dropped and his mind raced. Could this be a trick? Were they trying to put him at ease with tales of magical ineptitude, only to catch him off-guard later?

Then the image of a puff of feathers and ‘demonic cookie dough’ took over his imagination, and he felt the unfamiliar sensation of genuine mirth rumbling from his diaphragm. 

He laughed so hard that he had to catch the railing for balance.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, staring up at their startled expressions. “I just… graveyard dirt?” He needed to check in with Tia to make sure Phoenix’s energy wasn’t tainted with any lingering effect of the wonky spell. If they didn’t use sulphur they were probably fine, but better to be safe than sorry. “That’s powerful stuff, and not in an ambivalent, ‘intentions of the spell-caster’ sort of way.”

“Shit. Really? How did I never learn this stuff? Shouldn’t it run in the family?” Phoenix looked distressed, their eyes on Jess as if for comfort. 

Jess reached out and deliberately rested a hand on Phoenix’s shoulder. Instantly, both shoulders dropped and Phoenix’s eyes closed as if they were savoring something. Ambrose studied their exchange, looking for any hint of what was transpiring between them. Tia’s perceptions and Quinn’s explanations weren’t enough for him to get a solid hint at what Jess’ power really was, but whatever it was, it seemed to bring comfort to Phoenix.

“Phee’s dad was a Hoodoo practitioner and accomplished at making mojo bags,” Jess said. 

Without opening their eyes, Phoenix added, “Can’t quite learn that by osmosis, I guess.”

The thought of absorbing magic by osmosis made Ambrose frown; thank all the gods and goddess that wasn’t possible (as far as he knew). He’d seen Heros, he knew vile wizards who would go on the hunt if they could. Who knew what terrible monster chimeras of greedy power might be born?

Then the lingering image of pigeon feathers trying to escape from an upturned kitchen bowl made Ambrose chuckle again. He watched Phoenix relax by increments, hints of tension at their tiny disaster dissipating the longer Jess’ hand was on them. It was like nothing Ambrose had ever seen before; even the healers in the Caste did everything with exasperation and an expectation of return. 

Jess slowly let go of Phoenix to take the last few steps up to the third floor. “Yeah, well, that’s why we don’t let Phee attempt charms anymore. And my kitchen stays free of pigeon innards.”

Phoenix, now only amused by the mishap, followed Jess inside. With a chuckle they looked back at Ambrose and said, “It wasn’t a pretty sight, let me tell you.”

“It’s okay,” he offered as they finished their walk back up to the third floor. The image of pigeon feathers was stuck in his mind, probably for the rest of the night, and the realization that Jess was something kind and non-destructive soothed the last bit of his tension. The relaxation wouldn’t last, of course. Ambrose knew damn well that staying in one place too long wouldn’t do anything but make him antsy and, eventually, cantankerous. But for now? He wanted to pull everyone into a big circle, sit in the middle, and watch them all be fond and affectionate. Quinn was a darling, Fox was magnetic, and the rest of them…

If he wasn’t careful, he could easily fall for them. All of them. 

“Graveyard dirt and blood and quartz don’t mix,” he said. He put the sweet and dangerous path of affection out of his mind, even as it made his blood sing with the promise of impossible belonging. “It’s just not wise,” he added, hating the thought of graveyard dirt’s energy tainting Jess. They needed to be protected.

Dinner was a simple affair of pasta and laughter and social dynamics that Ambrose hadn’t experienced in years. Half the fun was watching Tia, the way she fluttered and stumbled and grew excited and nervous in turn. He did his best to guide and reassure her, already planning to tuck away an extra slice to surprise her with at midnight. He’d bet almost anything this house had roof access. Though stars weren’t easily spotted in Chicago’s light pollution, he knew Tia would get a kick out of being that high without having to worry about a dilapidated building crumbling from underneath her. 

The other half of the fun was watching the Pilsen crew move chaotically around each other. Phoenix seemed to be the head of the pack; the others tended to look to them whenever they were uncertain or needed guidance. But where Phoenix was the steady hand that guided the vibrant pack of magical firecrackers, Jess was clearly… not the heart. Every person in this house was its heart. Jess seemed to be the pacemaker. They drifted in around everyone, touching their housemates casually but to great effect. If someone seemed to be anxious, a trail of Jess’ fingertips over a shoulder settled them. If someone was getting too excited, Jess’ hand brought them back to center.

Ambrose was fascinated. And, to be honest, a little bit jealous. He and Tia held hands and snuggled and were attached at the hip, but Ambrose couldn’t remember a time when someone’s simple touch relaxed him. Tia’s touch comforted him, but she also needed protection and vigilance. Jess? Jess took care of everyone else, but who took care of Jess?

The thought snapped Ambrose back to his earlier worry. The wards on the house were excellent, true. And yes, the Pilsen crew seemed to do a good job of keeping an eye out for each other. Even if they underestimated the persistence and destructive drive of the Caste. 

The benchmark was Tia. The thought that these people could take care of her better than Ambrose ever could — the idea that she would be safer here than she would ever be with him — had crossed his mind. It struck him like a knife to the heart that he might have to leave her someday, but keeping her was selfish. The way she stared at the array of silverware on the table like it was a puzzle she had to solve hurt him. It wasn’t too late for her to have something more than endless walking and opportunistic shelter.

So, what would this place need to keep Tia safe?

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a number he hadn’t contacted in too long.

_ Any chance you could come to Chitown soon, Imogen? — A _

Ambrose shoved his phone in his back pocket and waited. 

 

~~~

 

Tia wasn’t easy to pin down after dinner. He knew the excitement of playing a card game and curling up like a skulk of foxes on the couches called to her like a siren song. But Ambrose was the center of her universe and he standing close to her would catch her attention. 

Predictably, she dragged him back to the now empty table and gestured at the decimated remains of dinner. 

“Ambrose! Did you try it? It was amazing! Did you know there was more than one kind of cheese? I knew there was white and yellow, but I assumed it was a color thing. Like, women liking red hats with purple dresses but not orange ones with purple dresses.” A confused look scattered across Tia’s face, and Ambrose waited patiently. Sometimes her thoughts moved faster than her mouth and she’d stumble somewhere between what she wanted to say and what she was thinking. Ambrose bit back a grin — she’d catch up, as long as he didn’t laugh and distract her to indignation. 

“Fox said there might be enough for seconds,” she finished with a conspiratorial whisper.

“I know,” Ambrose agreed, giving her a smile that hinted at a later plan for culinary revelry. He’d asked Fox, and yeah, there was roof access. “Phoenix did a spell that could have backfired. Is there any residual effect we should warn them about?”

Tia recognized the serious question for what it was and narrowed her eyes at Phoenix. Her pupils widened as they always did when she was using her Sight. She described it as wavelengths, color, and static of different shapes, but Ambrose couldn’t quite picture in his head. It made his skin prickle with goosebumps, but he didn’t object, couldn’t object, when Tia took his hand to keep herself grounded. 

“Phoenix is okay,” she said, gaze unwavering as she watched them. “Not even a fracture or streak of gray.” She turned her Sight on Jess, and Ambrose fought a primal sound of distress when Tia stiffened and clutched his hand tighter.

“When I first saw Jess, their energy was black. Not like evil, but like onyx.” 

Ambrose nodded, thinking of the chunks of crystal that he used to carry around with him to deflect and absorb negativity before he met Tia.

“Now it’s... cracked. Like, they’ve been absorbing energy all night and their aura is — a filter?” Tia cocked her head, gaze unwavering on Jess as she considered. “Like, ice in the spring.”

“It’s from their housemates?” Ambrose asked, head down to avoid attracting attention. “Or from something else?”

“When they touch other people is when it happens,” Tia replied, nodding her head. “Jess is pulling energy from everyone here, to help them, but it makes it harder for Jess.”

“Does it fade after awhile?”

Tia considered that, then shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

A sharp whistle cut through the low-level chaos of everyone milling about, a quick, complicated melody that Ambrose remembered hearing earlier. When the noise died down, Phoenix, who was in the center of the living room with all eyes on them, said, “I just wanted to say good night. I need to get some rest tonight, so I’ll leave you, new friends, in the cubs’ capable hands.” Both Quinn and Fox nodded at Phoenix’s words, big, generous smiles on their faces. “They can find you blankets and towels and whatnot. I might see you in the morning if you’re up, but if not, I hope we see you again soon.”

Next to him, Tia shifted on her feet, and Ambrose glanced back down at her. The emotions that played across her face were clear to him, and he felt a pang of guilt as he watched her realize she might not see Phoenix again. Sure, Ambrose had made it clear that he wanted Imogen to come and help the pack he was growing rather fond of. He  _ hadn’t _ made it clear that he and Tia would actually be here for that. Tia hadn’t even known Ambrose had other friends before this afternoon. 

Tia’s thinking face was swiftly replaced with her best expression of determination. Moment of indecision over, she scuttled up to Phoenix and gave them a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re so very welcome,” Phoenix said, returning the hug in a way that looked both genuine and cozy. They looked at Ambrose over Tia’s head and added, “Both of you. Whenever.”

“Thank you,” Ambrose said. “I hope to see you again soon.” It came out more formal than he’d thought it would, but his smile was genuine and heartfelt. He wasn’t lying.

Phoenix smiled back and waited until Tia let go before nodding to each of them and slipping out of the room. 

Tia looked down and scuffed her toe, which Ambrose recognized as a sign that she was about to be sullen and grumpy with him. Fortunately, he saw Fox turn his head toward her and knew a distraction was imminent. 

“Mouse!” Fox called from the red couch, waving her over with a deck of cards in their hand.

Quinn showed up at her side. The nimble way he moved meant he was never quite where you expected him to be, and he was always quicker and more graceful, too. He brushed her shoulder with his own. “Come join us, T. You too, Ambrose, if you want."

Tia made a very mouse-like squeak and bounced at the sight of the cards. Ambrose bit back a grin at the way her curls, even mid-jump, didn’t get higher than his shoulder. 

“I’m so excited!” She turned to Ambrose and gave him a huge smile. “They know how to play cards!” She paused, eyes wide. “Do I know how to play cards?”

“Not poker,” Ambrose chuckled. “But remember the game with three in a row or three of a kind? I bet they know how to play.”

“Rummy?” Tia confirmed, head cocked. Ambrose nodded, and she grinned at Quinn. “Do you know how to play rummy?”

Quinn’s smile was indulgent and fond and truly adorable. “Yep. I love that game. But watch out, Fox is really good.”

Something warm unfolded in the pit of Ambrose’s stomach as he watched the way Quinn guided Tia — reining her in without actively herding her. His care for her didn’t seem to be on the level of a crush, which was nice for the little one Ambrose was harboring for Quinn. And maybe Fox. And possibly Jess.

Oh, good gravy, Ambrose chastised himself. 

It didn’t stop him from wandering in Jess’ general direction while Tia settled on the couch.

Jess was ensconced in a comfy chair, legs tucked under them, watching the threesome curl up on the couch together and try to find a good playing surface between them. Looking up at Ambrose when he approached, they smiled softly and said, “She fits right in, doesn’t she?”

Ambrose watched the way Fox and Quinn couldn’t help but smile back at Tia’s effervescent grin even as her clumsy attempt to shuffle the cards turned into an impromptu game of 52 Pickup. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, smiling at their laughter and flailing limbs. It was odd, watching Tia laugh with people who Ambrose didn’t need to watch like a hawk for fear of them taking advantage of her unlikely innocence. It was an oddness he was comfortable getting used to, though. “You haven’t had to have much, uh, contact with her.”

A crease formed between Jess’ dark eyebrows for just a moment, even as their smile never wavered. “Oh, you noticed.” They clasped their large hands together in their lap, adding, “I try very hard to only touch when I have consent, and I wouldn’t interrupt dinner for that. But also, she’s a delight — all innocence and bubbly energy — why would I siphon that off?”

Tia was more than just her joy, honest as it was, but that wasn’t Ambrose’s story to share. The idea of consent, though, that was an interesting conundrum. In order to ask people if they wanted Jess to help them, Jess would have to give something of themself — the truth of their gift — away. Did that mean they only helped a handful of people? 

“May I sit?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Jess said without hesitation. 

Ambrose eyed the couch and chose to sit on the floor next to it instead of trying to fold himself into the little bit of space there was available. Tia was the one who’d started calling him Goliath, and she wasn’t wrong.

“So you could? If you wanted to?” Ambrose asked. Even sitting on the floor at their feet, Ambrose was nearly tall enough to see eye-to-eye with Jess. “Siphon off joy, I mean.”

“I... Honestly, I’ve never tried.” Jess looked mildly disturbed at the idea. “It’s not like I can retain whatever I am able to pull from people, so it wouldn’t do me any good, and would only do them harm. Mostly I just take away people’s pain.” 

Ambrose folded his arms around his legs and considered Jess. Their warm, brown skin looked flushed and their eyes showed fatigue after the flurry of activity that was dinner. Ambrose wondered if maybe even the briefest touch from someone like Tia would help relieve some of that. “It doesn’t stick?”

“Not too much, no. Sometimes if there’s some really heavy pain, especially if it’s emotional and not physical, or I take on a lot in a short span of time and don’t rest, then I can end up with a migraine. But that’s rare these days.” Jess smiled reassuringly at Ambrose, then looked down at their hands.

“Emotional?” Ambrose asked, ducking his head to try and meet Jess’ eyes. “That’s incredible. And generous of you. I’m not sure I’d offer up such a gift, should I be so… blessed? Cursed?”

The smile was still genuine, but there was something tight around Jess’ dark eyes. “I don’t often take people’s emotional pain. I’m a massage therapist and not a psychotherapist for a reason. Besides, the physical pain is easier to access and pull out.” They shrugged and gave Ambrose a half-smile.

Ambrose though about the twitchy unhappiness in the back of his mind that never went away. The hypervigilance that stalked his every observation. The way he probably wouldn’t sleep very well tonight thanks to a fear of discovery he couldn’t quite shake. It was emotional pain, and it was maybe just a little bit physical — the way he was also tense in the shoulders, the neck. He thought about the way Tia jumped when dishes broke, or tried to hide when people started  _ really _ yelling. 

“What about anxiety?” he asked.

“I usually find that through the tension in people’s bodies. Sometimes I can pull both out with my hands, sometimes not.” Jess looked thoughtfully at Ambrose for a second before adding, “Do you want me to try?”

A quick glance at the other couch revealed Tia, Fox, and Quinn all tangled up, cards everywhere, relaxed and joyful in their game. He wondered how Tia would react to having her anxiety pulled out from the place deep inside her that she buried it. A random image of a Salvador Dalí painting popped into his mind, all drippy and tending towards formless, and it made him smile. 

But as much as he wanted Tia to feel the best she could ever feel, a niggling thought told him he should try it first. Make sure there wasn’t some other darker side to the gift, a negative balance that magic was so fond of. 

“I’d like that,” he said. He stretched out a hand, slow but steady, and held his breath. 

Jess unclasped their hands and reached out, but before touching him, they said, “If you want me to take the tension, maybe I should find it in your muscles? Neck? Shoulders?” Gesturing to Ambrose’s hand, they continued, “I can try it this way, but it’s not as effective.”

Right. Turn his back on them. No problem. 

Ambrose unfolded his long legs. He felt a little foolish, shuffling on the carpet in front of Jess like a toddler. He watched Tia ineffectively reprimand Quinn for trying to look at her hand, but Quinn merely fell against her shoulder in an ecstasy of giggles. It made him relax.

Jess moved in their chair behind him, probably to get in a comfortable massaging position. “Okay, I’ll be gentle,” they said, right before pressing their fingers lightly to the muscles on either side of Ambrose’s neck.

Used to the healers of the Caste, Ambrose had braced for a rush of palpable power. He expected some sweep of unknowable physics that would reach into his mind and muscles to tug and manipulate and make him shake. But this was nothing like that. Jess’ hands on Ambrose’s skin felt like a massage, clever fingers sweeping over his skin in deft, practiced movements. It made sense, Ambrose thought as his body sank into a casual relaxation he hadn’t felt in awhile. Jess made a living doing massage therapy, they’d said, and it wouldn’t be wise for them to flaunt a gift that could get them on any radar of any kind — whether they believed in the menace of the Caste or not. 

Ambrose felt a strange mix of guilt and relief as Jess kept their hands moving rhythmically on his skin. It wasn’t fair that something so useful and wonderful could hurt Jess, he thought, and he reluctantly pulled away after a few short moments. 

“That’s incredible,” he said, fighting the urge to drop his head on their knee. The tingle of fight or flight that always tickled at the back of his brain was gone, and all he wanted to do was slump into a happy puddle.

“Good. But I sort of just scratched the surface, Ambrose.” Jess’ voice was badly hiding concern behind kindness. “I’m happy to continue if you’d like me to.”

“I believe you,” Ambrose said, looking up at them with a small smile. He felt like he’d be able to stay here tonight, now, his anxiety pushed down to the barest whisper of his subconscious. But he’d lived this long with it, was probably alive this long for having paid attention to it. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that yet. It’s… it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.”

“You know...” Jess’ fingers trailed briefly through Ambrose’s hair, pressing lightly against his scalp before disappearing. “Everything that goes on in this house is pretty mundane. No big magic here. We don’t have strong wards because we’re making marks on the richter scale or anything like that. To most people in this neighborhood we’re just a bunch of queer kids living together. Most of the time I’m worried about someone being upset that Mel and Bea hold hands everywhere, not because they can make the most magical music together.” After a moment, they added, “But then again I guess that doesn’t tone down the paranoia, just shifts the fear to a different group of assholes.”

“It’s not fair,” Ambrose sighed. He decided there was no reason to continue fighting the urge and settled his head on Jess’ knee anyway. He didn’t know how everyone here wasn’t gathered in a circle around Jess, waiting to have their turn under Jess’ incredible fingertips. Or maybe the rest of the pack didn’t need it. Maybe that was the gift of people who’d experienced somewhat normal childhoods, lives that weren’t torn down with power-driven monsters. He felt a light touch to his hair, brushing the top of his ear, what felt like an acknowledgment of the weight of his head. “Our magic, our inability or unwillingness to conform to the norm, our choice to love who we love… Why the hell can’t they just leave us be?”

“Phee and I have a theory that there are a lot more non-normal people than anyone lets on, and it’s mostly the folks who are insecure in their magical status and/or their sexuality that are the most oppressive. They feel the pressure to conform, and they are angry at all the people who don’t feel it — or choose to actively work against that pressure. There’s no way those assholes would spew so much vitriol unless they were scared of being labeled subversive themselves.”

“I don’t want to believe that,” Ambrose admitted. He closed his eyes and thought about the Caste, about how they actively sought power from a class of magicians they claimed to deride. He thought about the flood of news revealing this bigot or that had been busted cruising online. “It’s true, I think, but I don’t want to believe it. It makes what you have here so much more remarkable, though.”

Jess huffed a laugh, saying, “Sometimes I wonder if you’re right to be concerned. If this is a bad idea. Those are the times I check and recheck the wards and ask friends to add more.” Ambrose felt Jess shift behind him, possibly tucking their legs under again. “But then I see something like what’s happening on the couch, and I have to believe that love wins over fear, every time.”

Ambrose twisted his head just enough to take in what Tia was up to. She, Fox, and Quinn had abandoned their game and were just cuddling and giggling about nothing and petting each other’s hair. Guilt twisted his gut again, knowing he wanted to take Tia and go tomorrow because he just couldn’t imagine himself staying here. 

Well, that wasn’t true. Under Jess’ hands, free of fear and paranoia, free of threat breathing down his neck, Ambrose could imagine perfectly what it might be like should he choose to stay. It had been a long time since he’d practiced his domestic skills, but there was so much he could offer this perfect little ragtag crew of queer kids just like him. Protection spells, sure, but also house repairs. His gift made him the ultimate fix-it man, though it took years outside the influence of the Caste to find out he was just as good at building things up as he was at tearing them down. Finding the weakness didn’t mean you had to exploit it. You could repair it, too. 

“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Ambrose said, hesitant in a way that he wouldn’t have been were his paranoia still in full force, powering his decision with sheer righteousness. And wasn’t  _ that _ realization something to feel nauseous about. “But I’ve sent a message to a friend. She can help — really help — keep you safe.” He paused. “I trust her.”

Jess was silent for a few moments, then said, “That was very kind of you, Ambrose. Let’s talk to Phoenix about that in the morning. They will be happy to know more about your friend and what she can offer.”

“She’s a necromancer,” Ambrose sighed. Imogen’s sharp smile and gloved hands flashed through Ambrose’s mind, and his grin was quickly swept away by realization. He turned his head to meet Jess’ eyes. “You are absolutely, under no circumstances, to touch her. She wears gloves, but her gift works through touch. You have to be careful, Jess. I’ll… You’ll be fine. I’ll stay with her. But you can’t…” 

Jess’ started out wide-eyed, but their face slowly spread into a wide, soft smile. “I trust you, Ambrose. And if you trust her, then we’ll all be fine.” They reached out a finger, but stopped short of pressing it to his shoulder. “I promise.”

“Oh my god!” Tia shouted from too close for Ambrose not to wince at the screech of excitement. “I’m falling asleep and I  _ can’t _ fall asleep! Not yet! You have hot water! And bubbles! And a tub that covers my… parts!”

Pulling their hand back and placing it in their lap, Jess gave Tia a warm smile. Fox, however, beat them to the offer, “You’re more than welcome to take a bubble bath, Mouse.”

“I can show you where the stuff is,” Quinn said while trying to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs on the couch. 

Tia grinned and opened her mouth, and it took Ambrose only a split second to realize what she was going to say. “Bubble baths are like showers, Mouse. They’re for cleaning.” He gave her a look. “All your body.”

“Oh,” Tia said. Then she bit her lip. “ _ Oh _ . Okay. I’d say we could have a bubble bath party, but I don’t have a swim suit. But that would be fun. Can you have bubbles in pools? Do you guys have a pool?”

Fox shook his head with a fond smile. “Nope, no pool. And bubbles would probably be too hard to clean out of it. But when it gets hot again we can go to the public pool. I’m sure one of the ducklings would have a swimsuit for you.”

“Swimming. Oh wow.” Tia’s eyes were wide as she stared at Fox. Ambrose saw something flash in her expression, and he sat up straight, ready to scoop her up. But he had to duck his head with a smile when she simply added, in a quiet, embarrassed whisper, “Can you teach me how to swim?”

“Absolutely, Mouse.” Fox nudged her shoulder to get her to stand, and Quinn held out his hand to help her up. “But for now, go enjoy your bath.”


	4. The Other One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imogen hears the summons.

One of two things happened to a person who grew up in constant fear for their lives, Imogen knew. Either you grew up afraid of everything (especially Death), or you grew up afraid of nothing (especially Death). 

“I swear to god, you better back the fuck off, lady,” the lumberjack-looking hiker threatened. The vein at his forehead was bulging with anger, and his hand didn’t shake where it gripped his backpacking axe, but it was all off. His eyes widened when they should’ve narrowed, his stance wasn’t wide enough to take a forceful hit, and his body wasn’t turned away to protect himself from a blow. This kid had probably never actually been punched in the face or vital organ in his life.

In Imogen’s considered opinion, the intense familiarity of growing up with the specter of Death looming over your shoulder bred a very specific reaction to the unexpected reappearance of it. The ones who knew Death personally would either shrink back, protective and wary, or meet it with the easiness of an old friend.

Imogen knew she was unassuming. She knew that military-grade base layers under flowy dresses, and sturdy boots over lace, weren’t exactly threatening. Her long brown hair, twisted into one thick braid and half a dozen smaller ones, was studded with flowers and didn’t exactly scream bad-ass butch. But, she thought with a smirk, staring at the soft hands and artfully worn plaid and jeans of the asshole in front of her, it was better to be underestimated than overestimated.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she shrugged, gaze firm and unafraid. “But you are. You’re going to take your booze and your entitlement somewhere else and leave me, Rosa, and all her friends in peace.”

Rosa, for her part, hadn’t moved from where the hiker had tossed her to the trail in a fit of anger at being rejected. Imogen burned with anger, the fire of it a sharp urge in her gut, and she stepped forward. 

“Leave.”

The hiker straightened his shoulders and stepped forward. Power surged through Imogen, righteous and sure, and she smiled at the tenacity of this bastard who thought he had any say in how women travelled through space. 

Whether you were afraid of or happy to greet death, Imogen thought, you should always be savvy enough to see it when it was in front of you.

To call it a fight would have been far, far too generous. The hiker got in a swing, maybe two — easily blocked — before Imogen got her hands on him. 

That’s all it took.

The hiker crumpled in a gray pile of gasping, ice-cold whimpering mess, and Imogen turned back to Rosa and her friends with a sad smile.

“The Pacific Crest trail isn’t the safest place for women to hike alone,” she said, digging through her backpack. “Not without the right gear.” 

She tossed a handful of bear spray canisters into their laps. 

“Be safe.”

“Wait,” Rosa said as Imogen swung her pack onto her shoulders. “I’ve heard of you. Angel of —”

“I swear, if you say Death, I might cry. And I’m an ugly crier.” Imogen shifted her pack into place and looked down at Rosa. “Please don’t say death.”

“Angel of the American Trails,” Rosa finished, grinning.

“Oh my god, that is so much better,” Imogen huffed. “And accurate! Way more accurate.”

Rosa pulled herself to her feet, her two companions scrambling behind her to brush the dirt and leaves off her back. She spared a hostile glance for the flaccid pile of flannel and denim at Imogen’s feet. “He’ll live? Too bad.”

Imogen shrugged, and the phone in her pocket chimed before she could think of something reassuring to say. 

“Be safe, girls,” she said as she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

_ Any chance you could come to Chitown soon, Imogen? — A _

Huh. That was weird. Ambrose knew better than to think she’d leave the trails to hang out in the city, even if just for a few days. 

But… 

If he asked, he probably didn’t want to just hang out.

Ambrose would never invite her back to a city, unless it was important.  _ Shit. _

_ See you in a week. — I _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join in on The Mundanes universe at themundanes.tumblr.com  
> There are introductions to the world, headcanons, ficlets, and faceclaims on the blog.  
> We always love having more people writing more characters, in Chicago or wherever you want.  
> Let's populate the world with Queer Urban Magic kiddos!


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